Ask Me Why
by Maddiecake
Summary: Jude wishes he could have repressed his curiosity for a few more seconds... but now he can't, and it's too late.
1. Prologue

_So I've decided to stop reviewing and give this whole thing a try. D'you know how awful I've felt for never updating a fic of mine? Awful. Beatles ruined my Outsiders obsession…OHMY GOD MY CEREAL LOOKS LIKE IT'S SAD! Heh. Organic fruit loops do that… anyway, that's why I'm writing this.  
Please note that I don't own anyone. Except Jeannot… I own him._

**Prologue**

When you think back on things you've done or said, you can't help but see them in a whole new light. I've been here for what seems like years, time having blended into one long strip that consists of me slowly losing my mind, and I've lost the feeling in my right wrist. You know how I first said I would get out of this alive and completely okay? With a witty remark and the music swelling, Lucy running into my arms and everything as it should be, but I know it won't be. Because I could very well die in here, with the incessant humming of the radiator and the constant visits from my captor that are anything but pleasant.

I could die, and nobody would ever know I'm down here.

Sometimes at night I hear the floor above me creak and for a moment my heart leaps, pounding painfully against the ribs I'm sure by now are broken. I can't stop the hope that keeps gnawing at my insides, a mocking sort of emotion, to be honest, reminding me that nobody knows where I am and why I disappeared.

I can't breathe so well… not well after the first night or so when the mildew seemed to settle into my lungs and my breathing sounds more like a death rattle with every passing second. There are times when I wonder if I can just let go and stop breathing, forget about the stale air and the pain it takes to get any of that oxygen into my lungs. But I can't stop breathing… I'm not going to let that… _thing_ know he's won.

Damn my pride.

There are times when I hear people and voices of people I know. There are other times when Max is right in front of me with a big grin on his face as he fiddles with my hair, tells me that Lucy is waiting if I can just get out, but every time I move it burns and I know that any tough skin on my wrists is gone and I'm burning the softer, more vulnerable layer underneath.

Once in a while I drift off but I always wake up. He tells me that if I don't focus he'll turn it up; the heat, I mean. Max comes by… tells me to focus, just like _him_ and tells me Lucy will come by soon. I always smile, a forgiving sort of thing as if I forgive Max for not coming by and getting me out of here.

I'm terrified. Completely terrified, lost, confused… I haven't eaten in days and I've been drinking water that's been on the floor for days. My clothes are more or less missing and I've got a psychotic bastard in the upstairs rooms keeping me chained to a radiator.

I don't think I'm going to make it through the night.


	2. Chapter 1

_So my updates are probably few and far in-between. I'm on spring break, nursing an obsession with the scene where Jim Sturgess stuffs money into his underwear in 21… and I'm starting softball. I hate softball here. It's awful. Across the Universe does not belong to me, all I own is the deluxe CD and the special edition DVD. No characters. Except Jeannot._

**Chapter One**

"You've been asleep _forever_."

There's no response to give for the annoyingly perky attitude that belongs to a mister Max Carrigan. He was out just as late as I was but he's still sitting there on my bed and I can just _see_ that smirk on the git's face as he sits on the edge of the bed Lucy and I usually share. She's already left; off to work and I've got to be somewhere at noon, and that somewhere requires a good nights sleep.

"Max, lemme alone…" I bury my head deeper into the pillow to block out the sunlight that hurts my eyes. But Max doesn't seem to realize that 'no' means 'no'; a trait I'd be nervous about had I been a woman but seeing as I happen to be male, I'm hardly thinking of it at all. Instead of sitting up, possibly punching him or something, I bury further and further into the bed, under the old covers, until I feel like I'm curling in a ball.

Which is when he starts his jumping.

At first it's just a few bounces, and I'm thinking maybe he just sat down. Several seconds and one crack against the back of the head via the wall later and I know exactly what he's doing. Resistance being futile at this point I sit up and glare, knowing I probably look too hung over to actually look _menacing_.

My thoughts are confirmed when Max begins to howl with laughter. "C'mon Judey, get up… the world's _waiting_!" As if to mock me even more, he throws open the curtains that only had a little more distance to go before they were fully open. Upon their impact with the wall, the sun hits my face and my mind flits elsewhere.

_Jude Feeny scrambles back into a dark corner, all cat-eyes and claws, hissing madly as he pulls the blankets up to his chin._

It presents itself as a drawing, an amusing sort of comic-creation that leaves me smiling sleepily at the window despite the splitting headache and the fact that I feel the need to vomit and take a shower. Not necessarily at the same time, but one after another. Starting with the former. Bile rising in my throat makes me jump up, stumble to the bathroom and empty my stomach of its contents while Max seems unaffected. Having lived in the same apartment for a while, and having gone to a college where it seemed he did a lot more than _work_ I can see where my puking wouldn't actually affect him as much as it would, oh, say… _Lucy_.

Twelve minutes resting my head against the opaque window and a shower later, I'm dressing. I don't own anything good. Artists don't get paid much, and my art isn't anything _special_. As I pull on an old t-shirt I look around the room at the sketches that cover the wall. Lucy, Lucy, more Lucy… and a few other pieces that I made and was proud of. All of a sudden they seem insignificant, an amateur's work that he took to be genius and pinned up, like a good grade on a refrigerator.

At this I frown and pull the shirt all the way over my head. I never got good grades… always graded down for doodling in the margins of my essays, of my tests and any other homework I brought home. So my mum never put anything of mine up except drawings that, looking at now, I can't decipher.

Memories of my childhood fill my brain and vanish just as quickly as they came when I hear something in an alley. I look down; see someone moving quickly away and my curiosity gets the better of me this time. Thinking I'm going to be coming back (how wrong I am to think this) I don't bother to put on my shoes and run out in my socks, past Max who makes some smart-ass comment and past Sadie who looks up with mild interest as I move.

Halfway down the stairs (they're much easier going down than coming up) I stop. What if it's a mugger, gun in hand, ready to shoot the next person he encounters? Or what if it's someone insane? Curiosity gnaws at my insides and for a moment I hear that saying '_curiosity killed the cat_'. It comes with a sense of foreboding, a frightening prospect when it's just a little saying, something that shouldn't even affect me but it does. I end up standing on the staircase, looking down at the ground floor and wondering what will happen to me when I walk out there… if I'll even come back inside.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I move swiftly down the stairs, stepping out of the apartment and running down the alley. I'm a git. A goddamn _idiot_ to be doing this, but there I am. In my socks. I turn the corner just in time to catch a mop of white blonde hair… startling blue eyes… and then I'm out.

_Ask Me Why_

There's no way to explain the way my head is pounding, and the burning sensation in my muscles, in my _back_. I open my eyes, images blurring and swirling around me, Doctor Robert… cows… but this isn't it. I'm not with Doctor Robert, I'm not with _anyone_. I'm alone, I can't feel my arms and I'm in a very uncomfortable position against a radiator that appears to be _on_.

I move myself into a squatting position, to avoid any further cramps although the way my arms are positioned I can't exactly say what will and what won't cramp horribly. As I squat, feeling miserable, stupid and completely paranoid, I can't help but wonder if they notice I'm missing. Has Sadie commented on my absence? What about Jojo… does he know I'm gone? Did Max call Lucy, asking where I am?

There's no window… I don't know how long I've been out, or how long I've been gone. It's a frightening way to wake up, chained to a radiator with no idea where you are. Just as I'm about to cry from paranoia, frustration, just overall _fear_ I hear the door open, an ominous creaking sound, and_ he_ walks downstairs.

Really, there's nothing strange about him. He's a tall thin guy, about my age, white blonde hair, blue eyes… in fact, from what I can see from him in the light provided by a single bare light bulb, he's wearing a really nice suit. I can't see why he would lock me up down here but I can't judge him just by appearance, now can I?

"You're up!" His voice has an accent I can't place, and the tone he has is anything but the menacing one I'd expect from someone who's just abducted me.

"Seems like it, yeah." Damn it, my voice is shaking.

He holds out a pale hand, bony, spider-like fingers… when he sees me staring at it he laughs. "Right, the cuffs… well I'm Jeannot... Mister…?"

I just stare. Jeannot… and he's telling me his real name. This man just _abducted_ me, right off the street, in broad daylight, and he's telling me his name. He may be thick enough to do that but I won't. Instead of answering I shake my head and watch his smile transform quickly into a frown.

"Not talkative? Shame… I like talkative people." He turns his back to me, continues carrying on a one-sided conversation as he disappears into the shadows. My heart is beating madly, so loudly I don't know whether he can hear it or not, but if he can there's no letting on. I feel myself break out into a cold sweat, and my knees nearly giving way from the strain of concentrating my weight on them. I don't weigh a lot—I mean, I weigh more than Max but I'm not _heavy_. But even the skinniest person would have a problem with this, I'm sure.

When Jeannot turns back to me, I see he's smiling again, holding something in his hand that glints in the light. "My uncle… I lived with my uncle… my parents died when I was a kid. Real young. Not even five. See, my uncle was the one who was supposed to take care of me. Treat me good, make sure I got an education and all that bullshit. Well, my uncle wasn't the best. Ol' bastard… hope you know you're lucky, wakin' up in here with a guy like me, not like _him_."

It's a knife. Jesus _Christ_ he's got a knife, and not one that looks particularly old, either. The knife looks brand new and sharp, dangerous… I think I'm going to cry.

"'Course he pretty much knew my name… didn't have to tell him that but I want to get to _know_ you." Jeannot's voice is going on and on and it doesn't make me feel any better. The only thing I can hear, besides the hum of the radiator and his voice, is the clicking of his nice shoes on the cement as he nears me, knife in hand, smiling pleasantly. He may not have seemed crazy before, but seeing him like this, from this _angle_ and I'm not even sure I'm going to make it through the night.

The first cut isn't painful, a shallow thing that stings but doesn't burn like I'm sure a horrible knife wound would. Of course, Jeannot's conversation has stopped as he makes the slashes, cutting through my clothing (_Lucy gave me that shirt… she's going to murder me_) and my skin. After a while I'm trying to pull away, yelling and suddenly he pushes me, hand on the back of my head, I fall forward.

Handcuffs. I'm handcuffed to the radiator, hot metal burning my wrists, the movement rubbing them raw and the weight added to them sends pain through my body. There's a _snap_ and a _pop_ and I'm in more pain than I've ever felt. Ever.

"Shut up. I wasn't _allowed_ to cry. You don't get to either." Jeannot pushes me back into my previous position and I bite down hard on my lip until he leaves, placing the bloodstained knife (_my blood… that's _my _blood_) back on something in the darker regions of the room. Metal on metal. He's got a tray.

As he goes up the stairs he turns, silhouetted against the light from the upper portions of his home. "Get comfortable," he calls, pleasant again, and closes the door. As soon as he's gone I start to panic, my chest feels constricted, I can't breathe.

_JESUS CHRIST HE HAD A KNIFE_.

The places where he cut me, everywhere that's been sliced burns as the radiator heats up again and I drop, my legs sliding out from underneath me as I lean helplessly against the thing that's causing me more pain than my wrists and cuts combined.

_Doctor Robert leaning against the bus, the colours, the feeling of flying and Lucy right beside him…cows… Prudence in the circus of Mr. Kite's… blue men... and the field._

It hasn't even been one _day_ and I think I'm already losing it.


	3. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for your reviews, it's great to hear feedback on the chapters! If I don't reply to some of your's, don't take it as an offense… sometimes I reply and other times I don't. Nothing personal, I swear._

**Chapter Two**

Have you ever had one of those days when you just couldn't sleep? Insomnia… where you just sit up and try and tell your mind to go to sleep because you're _tired_ but you just can't for whatever reason? I'm having one of those, with a heavy dose of panic on top. Everything I do, ever move I _make_ comes with pain that is worse than anything I've ever felt. Worse than the nightstick, worse than the time I nearly cut off my thumb when I was making a sandwich when I was eight.

Jeannot hasn't come down yet and I'm beginning to hope he died somewhere. Maybe he electrocuted himself in the bathtub. Just as happiness is about to become an added emotion into the mess swirling inside of me, it strikes me that if Jeannot is dead I'm never going to be found. Ever. I feel sick… I'm so afraid it's making me physically _ill_.

"G'morning _sunshine_!"

I look up, my hair is in the way but that's not obscuring my vision as much as the sweat running down my face. He's left the radiator on and I'm not only about to vomit, but I'm… I'm burning up. On fire. Jeannot's happy attitude isn't lost on me and I merely stare blankly. This bloke is insane. I'm deciding here and now, I don't like crazy people unless their names are _Max_ and they've hit a golf ball off a tee that was located in my mouth. That narrows down the list, I'm sure.

He's retreating toward that corner that I'm associating primarily with fear and I feel my stomach churn. All the while he's talking to me; about his day, about people at his work, but never what's he's planning to do. So when he comes back into the light I'm horrified to see, not the knife from last night, but a scalpel.

A _fucking scalpel_.

I want to get up and run away, to scream, to do something that would get me away from Jeannot long enough to call someone. Nobody seems to be looking for me yet but can I blame them? It's been… what? Three days at the most, so why bother? I've been missing before… I think… and the last time I'm sure it was Max that was with me, and it was because my mum wrote to tell me that she was seeing someone again. This of course led to my staying at a hotel with a bar, getting smashed, and then reappearing three days later with Max in a worse state than I was.

You know, I think Lucy never forgave me for that.

Why am I thinking about this _now_? I'm going to die, to _die_ and what am I doing? Well I'm remembering the time I got drunk three days in a row in a hotel in Brooklyn. It helps, I think, but when Jeannot starts talking I can't see it anymore, it's all a panicked blur.

"My uncle used to do this to me. It'd be one hit after another and I'd go up into my room… shitty little place, I'm tellin' ya… and just get the razor…" He's coming closer to me with that scalpel and smiling sadly. "Y'know I hate to do this."

"_Don't, then_," I'm begging. Oh Jesus I'm actually _begging_ with this guy.

"I have to let someone know… let someone know what I went through. I _have to_."

"No you don't! No you don't, you don't have to you… you can let me go… please? Please?! I-I've got a g-girlfriend and a—" but Jeannot wouldn't listen, the bastard, and he just digs the thing into my arm. It hurts. It's deeper than the first time he cut me with the knife, a lot deeper and it takes me a while to realize I'm actually screaming. It's all nonsense, a mixture of words that shouldn't make any sense in anyone's mind but oddly enough make sense in my own.

When he's done I'm crying. I haven't cried… in such a long time, so it's a strange feeling when I begin sobbing but whether that's out of fatigue, or the fact that I'm just completely shocked, horrified, really, over everything that's happened to me so far. Jeannot is there, of course, pulling me into a hug, holding me as I cry and that's what's more frightening than anything. He's the one _doing_ this to me but he's the one holding me.

_The door bursts open and Maxwell Carrigan steps in, eyes widen at his best friend on the floor, curled up, handcuffed to a radiator. But he grins none the less, a reckless grin._

"_Miss me, Judey?"_

"Oh my god, Max…" Relief that vanishes when I hear the voice of the person holding me.

"Max?"

I start, pulling away from Jeannot but feeling the hot metal on my back and twisting away. It rubs my wrists raw, my broken wrists… I'm broken, I'm sure of it. Broken broken broken like a toy that a child's found on a sidewalk somewhere. Picks it up, holds it to their mother only to receive a 'put it back; it has germs'. Well I've more than likely got germs on me now, with the blood running down my arm and the overall state of the basement, I'm probably infected with something.

Oh Jesus.

"I'm sorry." An offered apology from the man doing this to me. It isn't going to make a difference in any case whether or not he's sorry because I'm already losing it. Max just crashed through the _door_ and then he vanished… I'm never getting out of here, which scares me more than the scalpel, more than the knife, more than my insanity. Because I don't know what I'll die from if I'm stuck in here and no one knows where I am. There are millions of things that could get me down here.

Jeannot kisses my forehead, and leaves me alone, curled up in a ball as if to protect myself against everything that's happening, or ever will happen. I've had to urinate for the past few hours but it feels as if I don't anymore. Humiliation. My face burns with it, but I'm thinking maybe that's not just the embarrassment of wetting myself, of probably doing so when Jeannot was carving up my arm.

My arm.

My eyes wander to my arm. It throbs with every frantic beat of my heart and I can hear the blood drip onto the floor. Every goddamn drip. The skin around it is red and puffy, angry cuts into my skin makes me vomit, thankfully not on myself, and start shaking.

_Helter Skelter_.

_Ask Me Why_

I wake up to cold water. Very cold. Icy cold. Jeannot is spraying me with a fire hose to wake me up and I'm spluttering through the water that's rolling off my body. It feels good against my burning skin, but I notice that he's left the radiator off. Nothing to warm me up when I start getting freezing, but what does he care?

"Y'know… my uncle… he did stuff to me. It messed me up real good." He smiles at me, sprays me with the hose one more time and leaves me alone. I don't understand… I'm not understanding anything, in fact, but I know that his words, his _voice_ leaves me feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Again I look down at my arm and wince at the way the cuts look, at the word written in my arm. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but it still manages to make me afraid.


	4. Chapter 3

_Because I happen to fear random author kidnappings (I know you guys aren't that desperate for an update… I hope…) I'm going to try and update quickly and efficiently, which means I've just set aside everything else I'm writing. As you very well know, Jeannot belongs to me, and you shall all learn to… um… fear him? Possibly…_

**Chapter Three**

I used to be pretty hungry, for the first few days my stomach would growl and I would consider eating my own foot or something. Disgusting, I know, but hunger makes you do things. In fact, I used to be so hungry that when and if I'd sleep I would _dream_ of food, and wake up hungrier than before.

But now I've reached a new plateau. I'm so hungry, so _so_ hungry, that I don't even know I'm hungry. If someone were to put some food in front of me, even if I was allergic to it (like strawberries. I know I paint with them but if I eat one, that'll be what does me in) I would eat it and be extremely hungry again. For all the sympathy Jeannot has, he hasn't fed me. Instead I've been sprayed with the hose about twelve times in the past three days, all to keep me awake.

Well I'm not sleeping in the first place. Every time I see him, I see something in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up on end and my heart race. It isn't a good feeling and it keeps me up at night, so I'm sitting there curled up in my little ball or leaning against the radiator that sometimes burns me and sometimes doesn't, and I'm hallucinating. It always seems like I'm hallucinating now, because sometimes it'll be Jeannot walking down the stairs, or it'll be Lucy, Jojo, Sadie, Pru… any of them.

"_You bastard_."

I look up. My neck hurts, my arms hurt, I don't know how to do anything but hurt, and as I stare at her I feel my heart ache. She knows how much I loved her, and she still can't forgive me, no matter how many times I tell her.

"Bastard?" My voice is slurred, slow from lack of sleep and the fact that one side of my face has swollen up from a blow I took recently, a blunt object to the head and I was out. "Bu-but you… you married Phil Scully… he knocked you up… and-and _I_'_m_ the bastard?"

She rolls her eyes at me and sits down in the air, floating. Just another hallucination, I realize, and I want to cry. It was almost human contact, I swear it was. Jeannot isn't human; he's some monster from the inner regions of my mind that might go away with a hug and some hot chocolate like when I was a child.

"_Yes you're the bastard… just givin' up like that and you can't even put up a _fight_, Jude Feeny?_" Molly stands and places her hands on her hips, grins at me playfully like she used to when we were still together. I merely shake my head and wince as the burned part of my neck touches the now hot radiator.

"Molly, I… I can't do that… you don't und—"

"_Jude? What are you _doing_ with her?_"

Lucy. My head drops and my eyes fix on the floor to avoid her piercing gaze. "I don't know, love." Love. I used to call her love but as I see that she's floating just as high as Molly I know she's not actually there, that I can't call her love and get a reaction I haven't seen before. In my state of mind she doesn't want to even look at me and instead sneers, brings her hand down across my face with a resounding _smack_.

"_Don't lie to m_eeee…"

The pain in my head shouldn't be coming from something as light as a slap, no matter how angry the woman was who gave it to me. I look up, although I feel as if part of my face is thoroughly smashed in, and see Jeannot. He doesn't say anything, but brings a board across my face again. Bones click in my mouth and I can taste blood, teeth… I'm losing teeth with this blow, and every movement I make with my mouth brings pain.

"W-What the he—"

But another blow silences me, knocks my head against the wall. The world blurs, colours sharpen and then dull and sounds vanish for several seconds. By this time I've been hit several more times and I'm bleeding even more. Blood makes it hard to see, and blood makes me vomit. I don't care anymore whether or not it gets on me because who cares whether or not someone sees me like this? I'm messed up to the point where I don't care what my appearance looks like… it can't get any better in this hell hole.

When my vision returns to normal I notice he's crying, the tears look red through the blood, crimson tears that course down his cheeks as he drops the board and pulls me into another hug. He's assuring me that everything is going to be okay, using my name and I don't remember when I gave it to him.

"Jude, I'm here… it's okay, it's okay."

I don't _care_ if he's here, because he's the one doing it to me, he's the one that's ruining everything I had and probably screwing up any chances I had of being normal in the future. _Lucy would say normalcy is overrated,_ I think as I sit there, burning against the radiator and wondering how long I have to live. It's become like a morbid sort of baseball game to me; how long I have verses how long I could have had if I hadn't left the alley. They play against each other, the time I have left slowly dwindling but with every drop of the score it wins and I'm beginning to wonder why I don't just give up.

When he leaves, telling me again about his uncle, I finally get the message and my eyes widen. There's no room for shock, for disgust, for anything except _terror_ in this because I'm finally understanding what Jeannot has been trying to tell me all along. If he's recreating everything, ever _fucking thing_ his uncle did, then I'm up next for it, and I understand everything at last. Everything I've been confused about, anyway.

I've been shaking for such a long time now, and it's not just from the freezing cold water he regularly sprays me with, or the fever I think is making its way through my body. What's making my body tremble now is what's keeping me up and keeping me from closing my eyes, blinking is no longer a necessity because at any moment he could come down the stairs and it would happen.

The door is flung open, light coming briefly from the upstairs before it vanishes as the door is closed. Jeannot's footsteps on the stairs send shivers down my spine, and as he inspects me, takes in the word on my arm (_Helter Skelter_… the word still makes me want to vomit) and then sprays me with the water. By the way he looks at me, the sadness in his eyes, I can tell that he knows I know what's happening, and he knows I'm afraid.

"I'm sorry," he offers when he leaves me shivering against the radiator. "But I have to do this."

I don't reply, and instead lower my eyes so that they're fixed on the floor. There's no point in reasoning with him anymore.


	5. Chapter 4

_Don't kill meee… I was late on the update because I was sick, had softball, and trying to squeeze some fun out of the last day of spring break. Now… I'm just bored out of my mind and ready to update as best I can. Let it be known that most of this isn't mine._

**Chapter Four**

_It'll be fine. It's just another step along the way… Jeannot is going to rape me. I'm good with that, I'm okay, I'm fine…I'm not going to let it get to me… I'm not going to_

_panicpanicpanicpanicPANIC_

I'm calmer than I thought I would be in this situation, considering the circumstances, but for all I know this is coming from the mind of someone who's halfway between passing out and screaming. I haven't screamed since the first time Jeannot cut me with the knife, and since then it's been like I can't do that.

There's no way I can actually deny the fact that he won't. It was in his eyes, in every movement he made when he left my room last, and since then I haven't been sleeping, I haven't been able to even _blink_ because I'm afraid he'll be hovering over me when I open my eyes. He has this habit of sneaking up on me… in fact, the last time he did I was so afraid I jumped up and hit my head on the radiator.

I'm hoping it won't hurt. Or if it does hurt, it will hurt less than the board that he's been hitting me with. _I wouldn't know… I've never been raped before._

As pathetic as it sounds, I'm beginning to miss Jeannot. He talks to me, he understand what I'm going through and I'm someone to talk to for him. I don't think he's actually married with children (I think I'd know if he was) so it must be lonely, and it makes me feel incredibly important. In my life I think I've only felt important once, or at least once that I can remember. Any other time and I'm just _there_ and nobody could care less… but why haven't they found me yet?

Time has become fluid, flowing freely and easily until I'm left with nothing but pain to actually calculate how long I've been here. If Jeannot comes downstairs, it's probably morning because I don't see him for the rest of the day and his hair is always wet… like he's taken a shower. I don't know how long I've been here, but I know I haven't eaten and I'm afraid my stomach is about to devour itself. A lovely thought, but it keeps me from focusing on what's to come.

_Because Jeannot is going to rape me._

I've been staring at _helter skelter_ on my arm when I hear him coming down the stairs. His footsteps are heavier than before, and they hold more meaning. They hold my fate and my sanity, and everything that was left of any purity I had. All in those steps down the wooden stairs. I can't look at him. It's like when I was younger and hiding from someone. If I can't see him, he can't see me.

But when I see the bottom of his shoes I tear my eyes away from the angry red cuts and meet his eyes. He looks terrified, truly terrified, and he doesn't make a move to go forward. We just stay there, me looking through my hair which by now is absolutely disgusting, greasy… I smell awful and he's just taken a shower.

After a while he kneels down… runs his hands through my hair, pale hands, thin fingers brushing my skin and making me pull back. I'm shaking and I don't want this. I _DON'T WANT THIS. _I don't make a move to fight back until he grabs my leg, my ankle, pulls on it and I start to fight back, to kick, to scream. I feel my foot connect with something and then I'm falling forward, my broken wrists catching me and making me scream even more. Jeannot just watches.

When he pulls me up I'm screaming still… silent screams, ones that come when my vocal chords don't work and I taste blood. It's metallic, disgusting… Jeannot's running his hands down my back, shifting behind me…

He's in. I scream. I can't focus and I stare at _helter skelter_, if I don't watch it's not happening.

_Ask Me Why_

I can't think, I can't breathe, I've been coughing up blood for a while now, and he left without a word. My small bubble of sanity has burst, and I'm left with nothing.

My eyes move up to the staircase leading to absolutely nowhere except darkness and the place where he lives. I can't think about it, I can't focus, I can't _breathe_ without smelling it everywhere. I remember this bloke back home, homeless, but he would take girls on their way home from school and they would come back later changed, not wanting to be touched…

One never came back at all and they found her bloated, bloody in the river. Boys poking her with a stick and I was too young to understand the meaning of the word that the adults spoke with disdain and horror. I never thought it would happen to me, never thought it but here I am.

And I can't say it.

Jeannot left a stool for me, right in front of my face, he pulled it out of the darkness like some sort of magic trick then left. I stare at it, the rounded legs and the painting on the top. It's like something a child would sit on at a small desk, a picture of a puppy, tongue lolling out of its mouth as a red ball sits in front of it.

I don't want to sit. I don't want to say it.

_Rape. Jeannot raped me…_

I move my hand, painful with each twitch of my fingers, and grasp at the leg, attempt to pull myself up to sit on it. Maybe it'll relieve some of the pain, some of the stress on my arms and legs. Halfway up I fall and land hard, the pain shooting up starting from the place…

_JEANNOT RAPED ME._

I scream. An animalistic sound that echoes in my ears even after it's gone. My arm shoots out, fingers wrap around one of the perfectly rounded, sanded legs on the stool and throw it against the wall where it splinters, rickety old thing. Stupid old piece of wood.

There's a funny lump in my throat, I notice, and I sob. I scream. I lean against the burning radiator, nevermind that it's burning me, but I can't take it.

I can't take the humiliation. I can't take the pain. I can't take the vulnerability.

I can't take it anymore.

_Ask Me Why_

I shouldn't be waiting for him anymore, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs and my whole body aching. The wait is over, but Jeannot should be down by now. If it isn't to continue his sick game, it's to spray me with the hose. I hold my head in my hands, fingernails digging small beds into my flesh and my eyes wide.

Where's Jeannot? Was he arrested? A drug charge? I hear myself laugh hysterically, a nervous sort of sound that reverberates throughout the basement. A drug charge for my captor and they don't even know I'm here. Mid-laugh I choke on blood and feel myself cough, see the crimson liquid come out onto the concrete.

I'm still coughing when I hear the footsteps.

"_GET LOST,_" I scream, voice hoarse, and I cough again and again before feeling more scared than before.

The footsteps are different sounding, lighter and just overall _different_. What if it's one of Jeannot's friends come to finish me off? I'm too scared to move, staring at the staircase as everything appears to be moving in slow motion. _He wouldn't finish me off… his uncle never did_. But maybe he's going too far… maybe…

He comes into the light and I feel myself beginning to shake again. There's an officer staring at me, and someone close behind. The officer's eyes are wide, horrified as he stares at me and then he turns back.

"Get down here! Bring the doctor…" He's turning away from me to the other person that I can't see. "Sir you should probably go—"

"Is he here or not?"

"You really should—"

"Is he—"

The voice is one I can always identify, and it always brings a sense of comfort. Or it used to. Now all I feel is fear and humiliation. I don't want him to see me like this, I'm always supposed to be stronger than this but now I can't be… can't be in this situation.

More footsteps on the stairs, hurried ones and another officer comes out followed by a doctor. The first officer is still talking to him, I can hear their voices in the background. They get the handcuffs off but I'm still in the same crouch, looking up at the strangers. There's a strange sensation in my arm as the doctor injects me with something.

_Painkiller, please._

He's saying something about the blood on the floor and I look down to see the dried blood and the fresh stuff coming out of my mouth whenever I cough. The first officer's voice cuts off suddenly, then hurried footsteps before the second officer and the doctor are pushed aside.

There he is. Blonde haired, blue eyed, concerned as hell but it's him. I feel like crying with relief, forgetting about my embarrassment at being seen in this position, but I just stare.

"Jude, man… shit…" He tentatively brushes the hair out of my eyes and I can see him clearly for a few moments. It's funny… he's speechless and I've never seen him that way before. All it took was my abduction…

"Move aside, sir…"

I feel my fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt. Red. Was he wearing red when I ran out of the apartment? I feel myself begin to sob, as everything really hits me, and I cling to him, feeling the world begin to tilt and my mind begin to fog.

"_Max_…"

_I hope you know there's going to be no more Jude torture, I promise promise promise. Hopefully this makes up for my lack of updating, and I'm sorry that they couldn't come in earlier but… realistically speaking I doubt that would happen. Next chapter will be either in Max POV (wish me luck) or third person, Max's thoughts._


	6. Chapter 5

_Well… wish me luck with Max's POV… don't kill me if it's awful because my Max muse is a bitchy little—well you don't need to know that. I've never actually written Max except maybe once but that was Jude mocking Max so it doesn't count. In any case, I don't own anyone in this. Jeannot will appear maybe once or twice after this but he'll only appear in memory._

"_Max…_"

I want to feel relief but I can't. When I called the police I had expected maybe they find him passed out, drunk at some sleazy hotel… maybe all the way in Mexico but I didn't expect them to track him down to this place.

It's a presentable apartment from the outside, nice neighborhood, good people, and nobody would have guessed the guy living here is keeping a guy in the basement. I feel Jude's grip slacken and look down to see he's passed out. He's bleeding all over my shirt, but the red only seems to get darker with the blood… the colour never changes.

It took a while for the sedative to work, I guess, but the doctor pushes me aside, tells me to go outside and wait. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll get to ride with Jude in the ambulance that they brought along "just in case". Sadie told me it was probably better if I went instead of everyone else going, and I thought it was cool at first that I got to ride in an ambulance but I never actually thought Jude would _need_ it.

Carefully so as not to hurt him I slip out of his grasp and hurry up the stairs. I make it out just in time to vomit in the bushes, reality hitting me like a ton of bricks and the sight of the lights of the police cars and the ambulance doesn't help much. I clutch my stomach, feeling a sort of anger I've never actually _felt_ before. I want to find the sick fuck that did this to Jude and make him hurt as badly as he is… but he's not home.

An officer walks out, a guy with dark hair and eyes. He looks disgusted and a little green, so it's no surprise when he leans over and pukes in the bush. When he stands up he turns to me and smiles apologetically. "I'm never going to be able to forget that."

I nod. _Neither am I._

He's wearing a badge that says 'Harrison', and I stare at it as he tells me what the doctor is saying. Pneumonia, infection, burns, broken jaw, broken ribs, cuts on his wrists from the handcuffs that are so deep it's a miracle they didn't cut an artery, hypothermia, _broken wrists_… the words hit me one after another, and I feel the colour leaving my face with each word. However, it's the next thing that puts the icing on the cake.

"We have reason to believe he's been sexually abused."

I can't believe it. That someone like Jude has been through all that, was raped… I feel the sudden urge to run and never look back, just so I don't have to see him brought out on a stretcher and to be reminded of what has most likely happened to him.

Harrison walked back inside and came out a few seconds later looking grim. "They're moving him now."

I don't think my vocal chords can actually work anymore, because all I can do is nod. Nod when they tell me I can ride in the ambulance and nod when they ask me if I'm sure I want to go. Halfway to the hospital Jude wakes up, looking confused and afraid. When I give him a small smile all he does is look like he's going to be sick and eventually one of the paramedics has to grab a bucket. I have to help him lift Jude up and I'm amazed at the weight he's lost, and the fact that while it seems like he hasn't been eating he still throws up for a long time.

"Jude, you okay?" It's the first thing I've said since I came into the basement. He looks at me for the first time and mumbles something that I can't understand until I lean down close to him.

"_You're late…_"

I think I need the bucket.

_Short chapter. Next will be the events leading up to Jude's capture, I promise… I just have to get to school now, so I had to work fast._


	7. Chapter 6

_Thanks so much for your support! I seem to be getting a super fucked up immune system all of a sudden because I'm getting sick left and right but you don't care about that. XD In any case that is why this might be confusing and jumpy-aroundy… ish. Max's POV because something tells me I can't handle Lucy at the moment._

**Chapter Six**

"Shouldn't he be back by now?"

I look up from my position on the couch; half on half off with my eyes practically shut. What can I say? I'm tired. I dragged Judey to a bar last night and it was more than I ever bargained for but I did a lot better than _him_. Could hardly wake him up this morning.

"Eh," I mumble, and close my eyes. It never occurs to me that he ran out without his shoes, and that he would probably need them knowing what ungodly shit is on the sidewalks in New York. "He'll come home sooner or later."

Sadie raises an eyebrow at me, tells me I need to pay the rent in a week, and wanders out of the room. I close my eyes again and drift off.

"Max, where's Jude?"

This time I know the voice much better, and I open my eyes to find my sister looking concerned as she searches for her boyfriend. _That_ was a shock; walking into their room one morning to see them both naked in bed. I close my eyes again only to feel someone knocking on the top of my head with their knuckles.

"Whaaa Lucy?"

Lucy bends over me and smiles before getting straight to business. I notice she smells like food, and my stomach grumbles. "Do you know where Jude is?"

"… ran outside."

She sits on one of the couches across from me and frowns. "What? Why'd he run outside? I mean… his shoes are still in the room."

Now I'm a little more awake, and confused as well. I've known Jude for a little while, but I get the feeling that we know each other well enough to make assumptions and be mostly right. Jude doesn't strike me as the sort of guy to go running out into the streets of New York shoeless. Yes the guy is absent-minded a lot of the time but I don't think he'd forget something like his shoes.

"Just give 'im a while, Luce. He always comes back."

She looks uncertain but mumbles something about waking her up when he comes home and goes to bed.

I spend the rest of the night waiting.

_Ask Me Why_

"Twenty four hours?! He's been missing for four fuckin—"

"Sir, please cal—"

"I'M NOT GOING TO CALM DOWN."

Nobody's home in the apartment, thank God. I don't want them to know how afraid I've been, and how frustrated I am with the police. It's stupid that they can't get off their asses long enough to search for Jude. I've called three times today, but every time I got so frustrated I hung up.

"Please sir, we'll find him as soon as we get a lead…"

I take a deep breath and nod. He can't see me, so I verbalize my answer and hang up as quickly as possible before lighting a cigarette and letting the smoke into my lungs. It calms me but as soon as it's gone I feel nervous again. Last in the pack. Dammit.

Nothing left to do but wait, and I sit on one of the couches, turn on the television, and watch some Spanish Soap Opera.

"We've got a lead."

I'd think this moment would be joyous, more exciting. They found my best friend, it's all going to be okay. But something in the officer's voice makes me stop, listen closely.

"Neighbors of Jeannot Garnier have been reporting noises from his basement… we're not sure… this guy's got no records with us before but his uncle was one crazy—anyway… we're coming—"

"I want to come too."

"Sir I really don't—"

I ware him down to the point where he's ready to bring me as long as I just shut up. Giving him the address of the apartment I slip into something halfway decent and run down the stairs into the rain that's been carrying on since earlier this morning. When the car pulls up I hop inside, ignoring the pained look as I get water all over the leather upholstery.

"You sure you want to go, now?"

"Yeah, let's go."

He raises his eyebrows and rolls his eyes, before stepping on the gas and speeding down the street. The lights are going and everything.

_Don't kill me. It's a short chapter at twelve in the morning. I'm sick… I can't focus… and Max's POV is so much harder today. Jude's back for the remainder of this fic so you'll get longer chapters, I swear._


	8. Chapter 7

… _have any of _you_ ever read Beatles slash? It's incredibly interesting if written correctly but if it isn't then you've got a bunch of random sex scenes. ANYHOO. I don't own anything._

**Chapter Seven**

It feels like ice in my veins… the water… everything is cold and my eyelids are so heavy it's like they've been weighted down. I attempt to draw in breath but find it hard, if not somewhat painful, and I feel my stomach churn.

I'm going to vomit.

Something is lifted from my mouth and I feel cool metal touch my face as I vomit something that doesn't even seem like it's come out of me. It's clear, a watery sort of substance that burns my throat worse than anything I think I've felt… minus the screaming.

"Judey?"

I know this voice, and as I force my eyes open I see the one person I actually _want_ to see out of everyone. It sounds selfish of me to say but I never want to see Lucy while I'm in here, I don't want her to see me as weak and as frightened as I am, and as tears spring to my eyes, as I stubbornly hold them back, I don't think I want to see her until I know I can handle the outside world.

"Max." My own voice astounds me, so quiet and hoarse, and the words echo in my head for several moments as my eyes focus and I see him. He looks so tired, his face has a drawn, pinched look to it that suggests he hasn't gotten a lot of sleep.

"Christ, Jude," he rasps, and I notice… his eyes look a bit red. I wonder if he's gotten high but the unshaven, disheveled look he has tells me otherwise. He's crying. Max is actually crying and I feel so awful, and so lost that for a moment I think I'm going to start crying, too and tell him every _damn_ thing about what Jeannot did to me… but I don't. I just stare.

My arms are in casts, covering up the words that are carved permanently into my arm and I find that my jaw is wired shut. So much more that they had to fix up, but none of it had to do with my mind. All my thoughts race for a moment before coming to an absolute stand-still.

"Max." That's all I can say, it seems, and he doesn't seem to care because he's trying to compose himself. He runs a hand through his hair, nervous, and I note the fact that it's sticking up on end when his hand is back at his side. He doesn't touch me.

"The- the officer… told me everything…"

My blood runs cold, and it's not from the painkiller or the IV drip. It's not from a sudden draft or because of the fact that the blanket on the bed only seems to be covering my waist. It's the fact that he knows what happened, and what happened right before he came to the house. Instead of crying, instead of acting shocked I just grin at him as best I can.

"Really." It hurts to talk, to move my mouth, and I'm sure my accent makes it hard to understand a word I'm saying. I notice that he's not smiling at me at all and I try to make mine seem more genuine, but all I get in return is a sympathetic stare.

"Jude… I… we thought you… I had to call the _cops_, man… then… then they found you chained to that radiator… shit." He's crying again, I feel my defenses beginning to crumble and break like any innocence I had left in me until however long ago that stay in the basement was. Max takes a deep breath and continues. "You… are you okay?"

I stare at him for several moments, stare at him and take in every detail of his face, every line and every bit of stubble until I'm sure I can draw the picture with my eyes closed. When I blink I feel a lump in my throat, and tears ready to spill over. I'm not okay. I'm never going to _be_ okay because I've just spent God-knows-how-long locked up in a bloody basement…

the cool metal of the handcuffs are back on my wrists and Jeannot is behind me, out of sight and invading my mind with every movement he makes. When he's done there's nothing said, and all I have left is a stool. A stool, the handcuffs and the radiator…

"Jude?"

I open my eyes and look at Max. "You should get some sleep," I say at last, a stupid excuse for beating around the bush. He stares at me and frowns, reaches out as if to touch me, then pulls back.

"Lucy's coming by."

My heart monitor chooses that particular moment to pause long enough for an amused expression to appear and disappear on Max's face. "She… she was a wreck when I told her about you." I don't know what he wanted to achieve with that but it makes me feel all the worse; like it's my fault I caused so much worry. Like it's my fault I wasn't able to just waltz out of there like in the movies and everything would be alright, that none of this would come back to haunt me.

"Gear."

He walks out of the room and leaves me alone to my thoughts, my worries, and the pain in every part of my body. I feel sick again and as a nurse (her nametag says _Maureen_) rushes in to put the bowl up I wonder just how long I was out, and who else has visited me. What if Jeannot came in? What if they never actually _caught_ him? My insides clench up, and then I start to vomit.

When I'm finished Maureen gives me some water and a cold but sympathetic smile as she leaves the room. I close my eyes and attempt to go to sleep, but find myself drifting not off to sleep, but into some drug-induced haze.

_Ask Me Why_

Lucy is hovering over me when I wake up, and seeing her tear-filled eyes, her nervous expression and just her overall young appearance makes my heart ache. She doesn't look like she knows what really took place, and the way her hand grips mine makes me want to believe so badly that it's true.

"Jude," she whispers, and leans in to press her lips to my forehead. Fear grips my insides and I pull back, eyeing her with fear. I love her, I really do, but I can't bring myself to let her touch me. Max hadn't laid a hand on me and I wasn't sure why he hadn't, but Lucy's contact is frightening for me.

"Luv." I don't think I can say her name, her _real_ name without breaking down. If it's this hard to have visitors I'm not sure I want them around for very long. She seems to perk up at my voice but still looks at me with concern, her expression one of a sad sort of awe, like she's watching an animal at a zoo.

Lucy's hand finds my own and she frowns as I pull back again, looking into my eyes and searching for the reason that I won't accept her offers of comfort. "J-Jude, what's wrong?" She has a hint of hysteria in her voice, I note, and there are tears in her eyes that send waves of pain through my body as I realize I've caused them.

This is my girlfriend, the woman I love and want to be with for my entire life, and she's asking me what's wrong. She doesn't know a thing, so innocent, Max had spared her the details and I'm tempted to ruin all of that by outright telling her _Jeannot raped me, I was handcuffed to a bloody radiator_. But there are lights in my head going off, warning signals that make me regard her with what I hope is a blank stare.

"Nothing."

_Ahhh Jude you stupid git. I feel bad for him but I'm more or less falling asleep so if this switched tenses anywhere I apologize XD_


	9. Chapter 8

_Thank you so much for the support, it really helps me get some creativity going here. I might start up a new fic soon, depending on whether or not—well… you have to wait. xD_

_You know the drill!_

**Chapter Eight**

"Jude, please talk to me," Lucy whispers as she reaches out to touch my hand. I pull away, watching her warily. I don't know how I look to her, I don't _want_ to know how I look in that hospital bed. When I pull back she bites her lip, tears in her blue eyes that seem to mock me as they roll down her cheeks, tracks on her face that I just want to kiss away, to make everything better. "Why can't I touch you?"

I shake my head, signifying I don't know why she isn't able to put her hand in mine, to hug me or show me even the littlest bit of affection. My brain rattles in my head, small pieces of it coming lose. My head aches. I don't know when the last time I said something was, I just know that it hurts whenever I open my mouth because of the wires holding my jaw together.

She stares at me, biting her lip, her shoulders shaking from silent sobs. I feel so awful for what I'm doing to her but I don't want to tell her… I don't want them treating me differently; I don't want _her_ treating me differently.

After a long time of us sitting together, silence in the room except the television playing _General Hospital_ and that isn't much of an assurance. I remember pressing the button near my bed to get the nurse to come and turn it off but it must be a busy day because nobody has come in yet. There's a child in the hospital in this episode, but I'm not paying enough attention to get the gist of the plot.

"Sadie's coming by today," she says with some fake cheer that, judging by the way she says it and the way she looks, was hoping to sound comforting. "Jojo couldn't make it today, though… he's getting a job at this… this b-bookstore." Lucy sniffles and I look curiously at her.

"Why?" I can almost hear the creak in my jaw.

"Why what?"

I don't think I'm capable of using more than two words, that my tongue can't form them and my vocal chords will snap if more than two pass my lips.

"The… job."

Lucy moves forward, like she's about to put a hand on my arm again, but remembering the problem with me being touched she pulls back and places her hands in her lap. "Well, he doesn't know how far everyone'll go in the band and so he thought it'd be good to… you know… have something to fall back on."

I nod ever so slightly and we sit in silence for the rest of the time. Eventually the nurse comes in and asks if I still want the television off and I decide that maybe it's best to have something on, just to avoid awkward conversation. It's about three when Sadie comes in, looking like her usual self but older somehow.

"Hey." She doesn't try to sugarcoat her greeting, no 'honey', nothing that makes me uncomfortable and that's what makes me happy for right now. Sadie gives Lucy a hug and she waves at me as she leaves, bag over her shoulder, assuring me she'll be back later. Either she or Prudence would be.

Where's Max?

When I'm about to ask her, the door closes and leaves Sadie and I alone. She seems uncomfortable, but somewhat distant as she stands near the door, arms folded, dark eyes taking inventory on my injuries. _Sort of like a mother_, I think, feeling homesick for the first time in such a long while.

Sadie doesn't try and touch me, she doesn't rush into a conversation, and she doesn't even sit down, instead she just stands and looks around the room with interest. I don't think I've ever seen her like this, but she just seems so out of place in the white, sterile room. I attempt to give her a smile but it fails and I look nervously back at the television, which is playing _Guiding Light_, which reaches its end and after a few commercials it switches into _One Life to Live_. It's only three thirty.

"Siddown." It wasn't meant as an order but Sadie jumps slightly and sits down in a chair, still staring at me. I've never seen her this way, but she seems to snap back into the regular role she has and grins at me.

"Hell, huh?" She says this almost conversationally as she looks around the room. "It's all white, man."

I nod, and she looks at me for a moment, concern on her features. "You alright?"

There's something inside me that keeps screaming _tell her you're fine!_ but I find myself starting to burst at the seams… everything I'm hiding is too much for me already, and I'm worried about what the future might bring if I'm already starting to break.

"… Jude?"

I want to bite my lip, but I can't because of the wires. Instead I take a deep breath, feeling the tears fill my eyes and begin to nervously fiddle with the hem of the blankets. My wrists can't move much, and one particular motion sends pain through my arms, makes me whimper, the sound soft but audible in the silent room.

Sadie frowns, but doesn't make any move to comfort me. Instead she leans forward slightly, hair falling into her face. "Are you okay?"

That's it. The tears spill over and roll down my cheeks, fall onto the blanket and others drip off the end of my nose as I look down at my hands which continue to pull the loose thread in the blanket to pieces. She looks shocked at this, and I wonder if she's ever actually _seen_ me cry. Judging by the reaction she hasn't, but it seems like she knows what to do, and sits there patiently.

"N-No," I mumble, not looking at her. I don't want to see her, I don't _want_ to see her reaction but something about her… she's the _first_ person I want to know about this. About everything.

"D'you wanna talk about it?" Her slow voice (it always makes me think of something that's calm, but rough… the sea, maybe) has a comforting quality to it I never heard before, and she's giving me an option. It's not like Lucy, who demands answers, or Max who knows too much already. She's letting me decide, which may or may not be best for me at this moment.

I sniffle, attempt to collect myself. "I… I don't… I don't know what… _how_ I'm going to live… like this. Knowing—knowing everything that's gone on. Can't be erased… I-I don't know what to do. He… oh_ fuck_ he just… I can 't believe..." I'm struggling for words that won't present themselves to me but I notice she hasn't said a word. "It's just. Him. Him and the stool. He can't… he won't leave me _alone_ I can't sleep at night I-I can't breathe… it all… it's all a load of rubbish. Him and his… his _uncle_ and the damned b-basement," my voice breaks, "and I-I never got to… never _could_. Because his uncle d-d-didn't allow it. Never got to… and he j-j-just did it. All of it. Left for work." I don't think I'm making sense, but if I'm not, Sadie never lets me know.

I look at her, feeling my ribs ache with every shuddering breath I take, with every sob that wracks my body as I continue to talk. "I never _did_ anything, S-Sadie… never did anything to deserve th-th-this pile of shit, did I? Please? I didn't… and he—and the water… I never thought s-someone could do _that_ t-t-to another p-person." My eyes fall back on the bandage on my arm that's farther up than the other. It's slipped off a bit, and I can see the angry red _er _at the end of _Helter Skelter_. I don't know, I just start crying, wailing, actually. "_S-S-S-Sadie I cuh-cuh-can't look at it a-a-anymore,_" I think I'm screaming. I don't know.

Sadie's eyes widen, terror, horror, as I raise my left hand despite the pain, and claw at my bandages until they come off, sliding to the floor. Now she's trying to stop me, pressing the button near my bed frantically and by now I'm clawing desperately at my arm, _Helter Skelter_ running down my arm, a deep crimson.

"Shit, shit _shit—_NURSE, NURSE, SOMEONE GET THE FUCK IN HERE!" She's really panicking now, running to the door, pushing it open, yelling…

Doctors and nurses come running in, take a look at me and something jabs into my arm. Sedative…

_Ask Me Why_

Sadie seems more wary now, nervous as she sits near my bed and watches me open my eyes, pale, stare at her. But her expression is one of concern, keeping herself far enough from me so that I don't feel threatened.

"I'm sorry."

She's taken the words out of my mouth, and I look at her in shock. "Wha?"

"I should've known you wouldn't wanna talk about that."

Really, I can't describe how grateful for Sadie I am. She's like a mother to me, her patience and understanding is amazing if not a bit annoying at times, and despite my earlier attraction, it's more like… like she's part of my family. My adopted sort of mother… and it isn't her fault. I shake my head, but the motion makes me dizzy and I fall back onto the pillows.

After a long moment of silence (which I notice isn't as awkward as the ones with Lucy), Sadie scoots a bit closer and tentatively puts her hand on the bed. "Jude, you're going to be fine."

I want to be able to believe her, and attempt telling myself that. However, no amount of assurances can make me feel like I'm ever going to be okay.

_You're wrong._

_Hm. I like the idea of Jude actually opening up more to Sadie than anyone. Although I can't get her way of speaking down correctly and it's starting to annoy me. This chapter originally contained a very tearful scene on Jude's part, no real arm-tearing-apart stuff, just lots of hugging, but I thought maybe that wasn't going to work._

_My reason for choosing Sadie over say… Max or Lucy was because nobody _ever_ writes about Sadie more than once or twice in their stories, and even then it's like "hey, wanna go see Sadie at Café Huh?" and I'm thinking, well, she has a life outside of that, right?_

_Plus Sadie is just boss, and totally like the mom out of all of them. So there y'are, rare moment of Sadie-assurance and stuff. Can't decide whether or not I like her characterization._


	10. Chapter 9

_Ahhh things aren't going quite well (I'm typing this up on the Mac, fer God's sake… can't get the bloody keyboard to work correctly) and I haven't seen Across the Universe since March. Know where I'm coming from on this—well… no… you don't have to.  
I wish everything was owned by me, but sadly…_

**Chapter Nine**

The next time I wake up I'm disappointed to see that Sadie has left, and instead that Jojo is sitting there looking strangely calm despite all the death and disease that usually come in the hospital. When he sees I'm awake he gives me a smile, soft and understanding. I feel like my mouth is full of cotton and my head feels lighter than air. Filled with helium, maybe.

"Hey." That's all he says, and I attempt to give him a smile but it just doesn't work.

"'Lo."

His dark eyes wander around the hospital room, at the depressing white of it all and the ugly curtains not chosen for any _real_ enjoyment. "Prudence's coming in a little while… they uh… said you couldn't afford to stay longer." He looks pained for a minute, clearing his throat. "Had to sell some stuff—"

I'm filled with a sudden sick sense of horror. "W-What kind of… stuff?"

Jojo looks uncomfortable for the first time since I've woken up and he doesn't meet my eyes when he speaks next. "Your art, man… not all of it'd sell… some of it, though. And my guitar." I look down at my hands. They're shaking and I can see a bit of blood coming through the bandages.

"Jojo, I'm so sorry," I rasp, looking at him, seeing the way his eyes are fixed firmly upon his hands. They're calloused, from years and years of guitar playing… he was so fantastic… I'm filled with overwhelming guilt as I stare at the saddened expression, see the way his shoulders slump.

"Nah," he murmurs, giving me a shaky smile. "It's not a problem…"

"But what about Sadie…?"

He stiffens, blinks rapidly and then sighs. "She doesn't know what to do." A sort of humorless laughter bubbles up from inside him, and he shakes his head. "We almost made it, too."

I don't know how much more of this I can take, the memories of what happened to me in the basement and the way I've imposed on everyone, it seems. Taking time away from Lucy and Max's busy schedule, worrying Sadie, making Jojo sell his guitar just to keep me here… I glance briefly at the heart monitor and will it to stop going, for the rise of the line to vanish as if by magic and for that never-ending beep to sound throughout the hospital. For a moment I watch the progress of that ever-moving red line, hypnotized until the door opens and Prudence walks in.

Usually when Prudence moves she seems to glide, to drift in a way that's unique only to her. She has this optimistic way about her that I've only seen vanish a few times and it's such a drastic change. Now she moves quietly and gracelessly, her eyes wide as she takes in everything around her. I'm sure she's no innocent (I _know_ she isn't) but the startled expression she wears as she looks around at the machines makes me think otherwise. Not so innocent in some ways, but there are others.

"Hey Jude." She wiggles her fingers in a strange sort of greeting and steps away from the doorway as Jojo leaves. He moves swiftly from the room with his head bowed and a defeated air to him, like he's just lost something more than a guitar. His best friend. His life.

I remember once he told us about how he started living in Sadie's apartment, and how his younger brother had been killed. One shot. He hadn't gotten there in time. I wonder maybe, if the guitar was what was keeping that guilt at bay, and without it, everything was spilling over for him.

What if I broke Jojo?

Pru's voice breaks into my thoughts, the horror that maybe I've just ruined another human being, as she tentatively sits on the edge of my bed. More forward than any of the others have been, save for Lucy who's insistence to touch me was more frightening than amusing.

"So they're going to discharge you," she says quietly, hands resting on her knees as she looks nervously at the heart monitor. "Um… Max is outside with the taxi… they're going to take you out in a wheelchair."

I glance down at my legs. Half of them are covered by a blanket, half aren't. My feet stick out awkwardly at the end, and in a moment of self-consciousness I move the blanket to cover them. I don't like my feet… I don't like feet in general.

Prudence notices this and her lips twitch, as if she wants to smile but isn't sure she should. "You can walk; they just don't want you falling over or anything. You're kind of pumped full of stuff." She motions to the IV connected to my arm, the other bags of God-knows-what. "And you get painkillers… don't let anyone get those," she says it seriously enough that I don't attempt to smile.

With a sigh that sounds a bit relieved, she stands up and claps her hands. "The doc's gonna be here in a minute, I'll wait outside." And she's gone before I can ask her to stay, or ask if they really had to sell Jojo's guitar. If he had any say in the matter and if Sadie's not going to get the big break she deserves.

What if they blame me?

When the doctor comes in I'm staring at the television which has been running General _Hospital_ again, a simplistic episode that I realize is nothing like a real hospital. Not everyone dies.

But then again, some do.

The doctor helps me up, allows me to use the restroom although the IV is still stuck to me, and he hangs the bag containing the fluid on a hook on the bathroom door. I feel so strange using the restroom, being so careful because of the thing attached to the top of my hand. My head swims whenever I stand up, and I have to be careful washing my hands. Don't want to hurt my wrists.

Well, they hurt anyway.

He has to help me into my clothes, or at least, he tries to. I put up enough of a fuss that I'm allowed to do it myself but he watches carefully, keeping an eye trained on any stitches, on my side and on my hands, which are shaking as I pull the shirt Prudence brought with her over my head. As I pull my jeans up and button them.

The IV doesn't hurt much when it comes out, but he places a cotton swab right over it, and holds it down with medical tape. His expression is a sort of professional sympathy, one that he's probably told to give everyone regardless of how long their stay will be.

Mine wasn't that long. And they couldn't keep me… Jojo had to sell his guitar… as the doctor wheels me out to Max's cab I feel sick. Max notices this and asks me if I'm okay but I don't want to talk about it. There's a lot that I can't understand about him, but I always enjoyed the fact that I could tell him nearly anything. Now I just feel isolated.

We head back from the hospital with Prudence next to Max in the front seat, and Max glancing at me every once in a while through the rearview mirror. He's actually going to speed limit, although because it's the afternoon we're stuck in more traffic than usual, and there isn't much to look at.

All I can think of is the way Jojo told me about my sold paintings, the sold guitar. How his shoulders slumped and the pained expression… they were about to hit it big, but it's over. It's my fault.

Under normal circumstances I should be glad that I sold a painting, let alone a couple. I'm a real artist now (sort of), but that won't get Jojo his guitar back.

That won't stop him from hurting.

I feel my chest tighten, my stomach twist itself into knots.

What if I broke Jojo?

_I'm so mean to them. Dx__But considering how little money they had, Jude wouldn't be able to stay long anyway. Plus, I ran out of visitors. Suure, Desmond could come in but Desmond never really appears in any of my stories except the zombie one.  
Also, I feel awful for doing that to Jojo. He's such a fantastic character, I love the guy, but for me, love means I make them extremely sad… which is what I did. You know what? We also don't have much mention of Jojo. Jojo or Sadie or Prudence. That makes me kind of sad._


	11. Chapter 10

_Why hello again!_

_So let me be the first to say congratulations because you people are the first in my fanfic-writing career to get an update on THREE (count 'em, three) different computers. Don't believe me? I'm quite serious... our laptop broke, which has all of my files for this story and I decided to write in the basement for once... which makes me think of a review I got on this a while back but—I don't own anything at the moment._

**Chapter Ten**

I've lived in this place for a good year and a half and I've never seen it empty. Every time I come into the apartment someone's there, even if it's not always Sadie. It's true that she doesn't let _everyone_ off the street rent a room, but there's always the odd hooker, friend... someone that's living there that I haven't met for whatever reason.

It's been two hours, and all I've heard is snoring from Max's room, and Prudence left thirty minutes ago to go on her date with Rita. I don't know where everyone else is or could be, and the guilt has been gnawing at me ever since I left the awkward silence of the living room, where Max and Prudence had been sitting across from me, attempting to think of some way to get me to talk about what happened down in the basement.

The door opens, I can hear it creak somewhere, and then Max's head pops into the room. "Hey Judey, just checkin' up on you..." With that he's gone, and I'm tempted to find him again, grab him by the shoulders, and shake him until he realizes that I don't _need_ to be checked up on. I can take care of myself, and I'm _not_ about to go into the bathroom with a razor or anything of the sort.

Or maybe I will. Just to show Max. Maybe to give him something to actually _worry_ about instead of him worrying over the insane thought that I'm actually going to off myself. I spent God knows how long in a basement trying to stay alive and when I almost gave up, the police come. If I spent _that long_ trying to keep myself from dying I don't think I'm going to commit suicide any time soon.

"Jude?"

I look up to find Sadie standing in the doorway looking stressed out, but a bit concerned. She stands there for a bit, arms crossed, seeming a bit apprehensive about continuing. I wonder if she knows that Jojo sold his guitar, and that there's no way she's going to get her "big break". Did he tell me that he told her about it?

"D'you want anything to eat?" The way she asks, the way her voice sounds, makes it seem like that's not what she came here to ask at all. I sigh. I don't like people having to beat around the bush, thinking I'm too fragile or some other reason that isn't true. I want the truth, but maybe Sadie doesn't want to hear the truth... so she had to stop herself.

"... sure." I sniffle, bring my hand up to my face and pinch the bridge of my nose. The headache is back, that dull _thud thud thud_ behind my eyes, that hammer... something drops onto my palm and upon looking down I realize it's a drop of water. Tears. One after another they roll down my cheeks and I bury my head in the pillow to avoid looking at Sadie. I can never seem to keep my emotions in check when she comes around, and I've never liked crying. It makes me feel weak, vulnerable and I don't _need_ that right now.

"... Jude?" I feel the bed shift a bit as she sits down on the end of it, runs a hand through my hair. She's the mother out of this whole group; a sexy, lenient mother, but a mother none the less. "Do you want to talk about it?" But her words are apprehensive. She remembers the last time I 'talked about it' where I tore up my arm and they had to sedate me... she doesn't want it happening again, it's too much to deal with.

I don't reply, but bury my head further into the pillow. _Thud thud thud_ my headache is like a drum beat, never-ending and making me cry even more because it _won't stop_ and I'm so tired... but I'm afraid to go to sleep.

I'm trying to make the tears stop as Sadie whispers comforting things to me. For the first time since I woke up I want someone to hold me, to use some sort of comforting gesture whether it's a hug or someone holding my hand. I sit up, head lowered so as to not let Sadie see my tears.

"Are you okay?"

Silence. Then I do something I'm not really sure I'm aware of until I feel her arms wrap around me, one hand stroking my hair as I rest my forehead on her shoulder and let out loud, hiccupping sobs that embarrass me more than anything.

_Thud thud thud_

"S-Sadie I c-can't s-s-stop e-e-e-everything from c-coming back," I wail. "I d-d-don' want it t-t-to come buh-back!" She continues to stroke my hair as I cling to her like I used to cling to my own mother when I was a child and there would be a storm going on outside, our power would go off sometimes and leave us in the dark.

I'm terrified of the dark.

It used to bring me terrifying images of monsters, long claws dragging across the floor and their fangs dripping poisonous venom. To me those monsters were the evil in the world, every shove by a boy in school and every person who dared to call me a bastard because they knew more than they should have about my lack of a father. Now all that comes to mind when I think of the darkness is Jeannot's movements behind me, the knife glinting in the light that he only turned on when he came downstairs and that stupid stool that he left for me after everything was done.

"_Shhh..._" Her movements seem awkward, like she's never dealt with something like this before (which I'm sure she hasn't) but it's comforting. I'm not sure why it is I'm letting her touch me when everyone else is being pushed away.

My eyes snap open, tears stopping gradually as I sniffle every once in a while. I don't let go of Sadie; it's as if she's the one holding me together at the moment and if I let go I'll drop back into the basement and I'll never get out.

_Thud thud thud._

_Okay so that didn't go in the direction I wanted it to... but I'd like to build on Jude's relationship with Sadie more because you hardly see that besides a friendship sort of thing in the movie, anyway._


	12. Chapter 11

_So I was feeling like I needed something to do (mostly because I'm an awful procrastinator) and thought I'd update this and another fic. Maybe start one (four going at once, I'll fail so horribly... XD) but just so you know I'm not sure how long this will be. Besides, I want Jude to start getting better. Or maybe Jojo will be the focus of this._

_Who knows. I own nothing, let's get on with the show!_

**Chapter Eleven**

I'm embarrassed. No, more than embarrassed. I'm bloody horrified that I've broken down in front of Sadie not once, but twice, all in the span of about a week. When I slip out of my bedroom (I don't know where Lucy is anymore) she gives me a look; not one of pity, but all the same I can't stand it.

I clear my throat, and she jumps slightly, as if she hadn't seen me or perhaps hadn't been expecting any sort of noise. "Where's," my voice is scratchy and sounds nothing like I remember it, "where's Max?"

She shrugs. After all, it's not her job to keep us in line although the way she goes back to the book she's reading and the way her eyes stay fixed on the page, I get the feeling that she's lying. "Sadie?" Pleading. Shit. I didn't want to sound needy... I'm tired of being needy...

"I dunno, Jude," she smiles at me, a half-smile that she gives everyone. "He went out this morning with Lucy."

My shoulders sag. Relief. So he hasn't done anything stupid. He's out with Lucy. Max is out with Lucy and there's no problem in that, is there? I stop for a moment, trying to collect my thoughts in a way I haven't done in such a long time; it takes a while for me to remember how to do it. "What about Jojo?"

Sadie frowns, bites her lip. She's uncertain again, not sure about something having to do with her (_boyfriend? Lover? What is Jojo to Sadie?_). At long last she just shrugs again. "He isn't in a lot." Her tone is clipped, cold, she doesn't want to talk about it and I wonder if he's finally told her.

"... where could I find him?" Thank him... I want to do something to make it up to him because that guitar was important, wasn't it? It meant the world to him. It was a distraction and I remember when Max had one of his flashbacks, how Lucy ended up bringing out this torn blanket, handing it to him...

"_I don't understand..."_

"_Jude, he's not... he's not good." Sobbing. She's holding out the blanket to Max whose eyes are blank except the blind, naked terror._

"_But why the blanket?"_

_Shakes her head. "He's had it since he was a baby... it makes him _happy_"_

And the guitar made Jojo happy. I feel like an idiot, someone who shouldn't even be allowed in the apartment with everything I bring in, all the baggage... they don't deserve it.

"Try Café Huh? and if he's not there I can't tell you." She goes back to her book, end of conversation, the doors are closed. With a small wave I fumble with the doorknob before slipping it open and leaving. On the street people stare at me, I wonder how I look to them, if they somehow heard about the kidnapping or if I just look strange wandering around with my bandaged wrists and my constantly-shifting eyes.

I don't like it outside. It's too open. I feel vulnerable as I pass through crowds, feel some people stare at me and bump into others when the contact isn't wanted. A part of my mind tells me to just go back home, to hide out in my room and never leave the house but I ignore it. _I want to get better_.

After what seems like centuries I reach Café Huh? and step inside. It's darker, nearly empty in the daylight hours and I don't see Jojo anywhere. Taking a deep breath I wander back outside and continue on back to the apartment. Where else would Jojo be? He wouldn't be practicing anywhere—his guitar is—

My mind seems to dart away from that thought as quickly as it resurfaced because if I'm focusing on that I'll end up doing something stupid or perhaps just breaking down in the middle of the crowded sidewalk.

Walking. More crowds. They're faceless people with hair, their features a blur to me as I move around them and try not to touch anyone. Something meets my ears, a sound that I would associate with my missing (_friend? Acquaintance?_) and for the first time in a while I feel a smile tug at my lips. It's Jojo. It has to be.

Looking around to see where that sound came from I found a small music shop, specializing in guitars and some second-hand drum kits. There he is, inside, a guitar in hand as he attempts to show a little girl in front of him how to play a chord correctly. I hurry inside, getting away from the crowds and the chatter that has become a foreign language to me.

"Jojo!"

He looks up and raises a hand in greeting. The little girl turns around, an acoustic guitar in hand, and gives me a big grin. She's missing her two front teeth and one is already growing back. Her fingers clutch at the neck of the guitar but when she takes in the bandages on my wrists she frowns. Jojo doesn't smile, he just stares at me.

"... I'm in the middle of something, Jude." He doesn't even _sound_ like Jojo. He sounds tired, lost, even with that beautiful, red electric guitar in hand he looks like he's lost his best friend. "Could you come back, later?"

So he's working there. I shake my head and motion to a piano bench in the corner next to a scratched, unrepaired piano that sits closer to the back. "I'll... I'll just sit here," I mumble and scurry toward the bench only to hear the rickety old thing protest as I sit on it.

Jojo goes back to showing the little girl the chords and offers her a kind smile every once in a while. Meanwhile her mother watches him suspiciously; mistrustful of someone with skin so different from her's, with such dark eyes and hair... such a contrast to her pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes. Still, her daughter seems to be enjoying herself so she stays back with her arms crossed and her teeth constantly attacking her bottom lip.

The little girl stands up on tip-toe, watching Jojo's fingers move skillfully along the neck of the guitar as he plays something that sounds a bit like something he had been working on before everything started to fall apart. When he finishes, she carefully sets down the acoustic to pick up a smaller, strangely-shaped guitar, a distorted pentagon with a rose-colour running along the outside, white in the middle, and smiles at him. "I wanna play like you," she says enthusiastically, her words coming with a bit of a whistle due to her lack of front teeth.

His eyes flit curiously to the mother, wondering just how someone so sweet could come from someone this... suspicious. "I do lessons," he says to her, and I see the girl's eyes light up, her fingers tighten around the neck again, "every Tuesday and Thursday. We only have a couple people in so far... Dylan," he motions toward the back room and I get the impression that this woman has already seen this 'Dylan', "thought it'd be good for business."

She sniffs, looks at her daughter with the guitar and lets out a breath. Her fingers curl around themselves, uncurl, twist, red nails catch the light. "We-ell. Alright then." It sounds as if she's just given up part of her own life to make this decision. "Anna," she's speaking to her daughter who looks up at her mother.

"... yeah?"

"Would you like... _that_ guitar?" Had she been expecting the softer, less-expensive acoustic guitar? Judging by the way they look, so well-groomed, they can afford this guitar but chances are this woman hadn't wanted to see her sweet Anna 'dirtied' by the affects of rock and roll.

Anna doesn't notice the disgust in her voice and nods enthusiastically. "_Yeah!_ Mommy, I'm gonna play jus' like him!"

After some exchanging of bills, lesson information and a good-bye to Anna, Jojo turns around, sees me, and looks mildly shocked.

"Oh. Thought you'd left."

I offer him what I hope is a sympathetic smile. "... you're giving lessons? Well that's—"

"Yeah."

Another door closes, end of discussion, end of story. With that he walks into the _employee only_ part of the store and leaves me in the front room alone.

_... I feel like I turned Jojo into too much of a jerk in this but you tell me. By the by, Dylan is a name mentioned in Yer Blues. The guitar described in this is a guitar in existence, I know nothing about guitars, I'll just tell you I looked at a picture. Anna will appear in more than just this chapter (cos she's so adorable... I'm thinking of using her in All Things Must Pass)  
_


	13. Chapter 12

_Oh God you guys, so many apologies so little time (or maybe you just don't want to read this) I don't have much of an excuse except softball finished up and on Saturday I'm going on a two-week trip to where I used to live and I'm getting ready for that (and no internet means no updates so I'll attempt to give you guys maybe one more after this)  
Also (because I'm telling absolutely _everyone_ about this) I got an autographed picture of Ringo in the mail yesterday! I'd fangirl heavily for a moment but I'm tired XD  
__Jim Sturgess, I keep thinking, kind of looks like Keith Moon without the EXTREMELY dark eyebrows, don'tcha think? Or am I making connections where they're not due?  
Lastly, I don't own anything, thank you for sticking by this even with my lack of updates._

**Chapter Twelve**

I'm walking home alone, all alone in the dark. I stayed at the music store for a little bit, just staring at the guitars and other instruments until the other man working there (_Dylan_) showed up and asked me if I was looking for anything.

"_Is... er... Jojo still here?"_

"_Nah, he left a while ago."_

All I want to do is help him, but I don't know if he'd actually accept anything at this point. Anything at all to help him out but if he keeps pushing me away then who's to say I won't give him up as a lost cause? Something that needs fixing but can't be fixed?

I pause for a moment amidst the crowds of strangers. That's more how I'd describe myself than Jojo at the moment.

"Hey." Fingers wrap around my wrist, issuing pain. The voice is familiar, frightening to me and I find my vocal chords have stopped working. I don't want to turn around. I _can't_ turn around because I know who's holding my wrist, whispering in my ear... a kidnapping in the middle of a crowded street. God bless A-fucking-merica. Bitter thoughts fly from my mind, replacing themselves with panic and fear.

"Hey." That word, repeated in the same rasp, the same fluctuation as his and I start to pull away, forgetting my wrists and the broken bones that are still healing. Let them heal wrong, if I get away from him I'll be okay...

A hand presses itself to my face and I begin to feel tired (_chloroform... oh Jesus_) but continue my struggle, finally breaking free and even though my mind is cloudy I start running as fast as I can. I push past people, their touch no longer frightening me quite as much as the man running behind.

I'm nearly crying with relief when I see the building that I've been living in for such a long time and push myself to go faster. I can hear his breathing behind me, he's not even close to being out of breath and I'm already gasping for air.

Something collides with my body, sending me into the side of the building and the same hand clamps itself over my mouth, this time without the chloroform, and a knee drives itself into my stomach. For a terrifying moment I can't breathe and stare up at the familiar blonde hair, the blue eyes. He hasn't been caught yet.

"Tried to run away?"

The voice, the one that was originally so caring and sympathetic is cold, angry. _Oh God, _I think, my mouth moving in silent pleas, _oh God he's going to take me back there... he will... he's going to take me back..._

I gasp as the knee drives into my stomach again and I retch violently. I haven't eaten in a long time, and nothing comes up except perhaps some spit that drips down my chin and onto the jean-clad knee of my former captor. Jeannot. The name is screamed throughout my head, warning signals going off with big, flashing lights and police sirens.

_Jeannotjeannotjeannot JEANNOT IS HERE, GET THE FUCK OUT_.

When I try and pull away, he raises a fist, punches my jaw that was already broken and wired shut. Pain explodes in my head but as I take a deep breath I find I can't release it. A hand has clamped down on my throat, fingers squeezing, my vision blurs although whether it's because I'm crying or I'm about to pass out I can't quite tell.

Something makes him loosen his grip and I take the moment to bring my knee up into his crotch which, being the male I am, I know will hurt and hopefully make him let go. He does just as I had hoped he would and when he's writhing on the ground I stumble into the apartment, run up the stairs and hear him right on my heels. I'm sobbing now, clutching the banister at points as I attempt to get my breath back.

"S-_Sadie_," it comes out as a strangled sort of cry as I force myself up the last few stairs and stumble into the apartment. My breath comes out in sudden bursts, my chest heaves and I can taste blood in my mouth. I bring a shaking hand up to my mouth only to have it come away bloody. My lip's been split, some teeth have been knocked loose, and I feel a strange opening on my bottom lip where I think one of my teeth has bitten through.

And someone throws themselves against the door. It rattles and I feel my legs trembling. Jelly. They're about to give out.

Sadie's not answering when I call... Max. Max or Lucy... they'll be here... I call for them, hoping that someone will come and help but when nothing happens and the smashing of the door continues I stumble back from it, arms wrapped around myself, like I'm trying to hold everything in.

When there's a particularly nasty-sounding _crack_ from the wood I make my way into my room, shaking. I'm scared. Jeannot is on the other side of the door and he's not leaving. He's not leaving... the phrase is a mantra in my head, not at all comforting and not meant to help in any way except to scare me. I clutch at my hair, fingers wrapped around strands and tug, the pain momentarily taking me away from my current predicament.

I don't want to be here. I want to be back in Liverpool with my mum, working hours that I could complain about while secretly enjoying the distraction. More importantly (_the first time I've thought this since seeing Lucy_) I want _Molly_ back. For a good couple of seconds my mind flits between thinking of Molly when I had first met her and how she had looked when I came back.

Pregnant. Probably with Phil's baby. I feel sick but I'm too afraid to leave the room because what if _he's_ out there? I hear footsteps down the hall and bring my knees up to my chest, form a ball, hide in the corner...

the doorknob rattles, turns ever-so-slightly and then it's open. _Jesus oh fuck oh shit... he's getting in he's getting in... I'm going back there, I'm not coming back..._

As the door opens my eyes fall on the window, on the narrow ledge it has and while I'm not skeletal (the ledge would be more comfortable to someone who _was_) I'm thin enough and I move as quickly as I can over to it, sliding it open and slipping out only to hear him enter.

My foot hasn't gotten through yet.

I feel him grab my ankle, it makes me trip, and even though it sends pain shooting through my wrists I scratch at the brick of the apartment, fingernails coming up bloody, broken, some falling off entirely.

My other foot leaves the edge, I'm falling... oh _Christ _I'm falling... but I'm being dragged back in suddenly, and I'm panicking. I'm still scratching at the bricks, attempting to get some hold on something, to get _away_ from Jeannot.

When I'm back in the room, back resting against the wall, head against the windowsill, I get a good look at him.

Blonde hair, blue eyes... he reels back in shock at the blood on my face, my bloody hands and the way they're still formed. Claws. Disgusting, crimson claws.

"Judey?"

Max. I want to cry but find I can't, and instead stare at the wall opposite me, my knees once again up to my chest and my arms wrapped around my legs, the denim stained with blood.

"Shit," Max hisses as he picks up one of my hands, examines them and lets it resume it's previous position. "What the hell were you _doing_?! Were you doing acid or..." His face comes more into focus as he sits right in front of me, balancing on the balls of his feet as he stares into my eyes. "Jude?"

He swears again, and then vanishes from sight, runs out of the room and I can hear him calling for Lucy. Someone comes forward then but I don't react despite the surprise I'm feeling underneath the fear. His dark eyes have some concern although he looks calm for the most part.

"Jude."

Slides down the wall. Sitting next to me, his eyes are fixed on my face and I can feel them, but I never turn my head. My fingers flex, digging into my legs and I drop my head forward onto my knees. I can't talk. My jaw hurts.

"Oh God, Jude..."

I don't need Lucy right now. I don't need her, I just want my mum... but I don't tell her this. I don't even look up but she makes me lift my head, examines my eyes, winces as her eyes fall on the split lip, on the place where I bit through my bottom lip. She's nervous.

"Jude, are you..."

"Well of course he's not okay! He tried t'jump out a fucking window," Max's voice is high. Verging on hysteria? He's probably just paranoid.

Lucy turns her head; I see her hair, watch it glitter in the moonlight and feel my stomach clench. Caught in a vice... _he was in the house, I know he was... he's still here_. My eyes, for the first time, dart around the room. Max, Jojo, Lucy. Nothing in the shadows but how can I _really_ be sure what's there and what isn't?

When she looks back at me I'm looking at the wall again. She reaches out, wipes some of the blood around my mouth away, looking surprised I let her touch me but that's hardly the biggest issue at hand.

"Jude, did you get mugged?" Her voice is quiet, sympathetic. I don't want to tell her, I don't want to tell her _anything_ that happened in that basement or just outside today. She would worry and I don't want anymore worrying.

"You can tell me what happened," she whispers, pressing her lips to my forehead but I don't answer her. I can't. I'm paralyzed and so lost...

"Luce, we should probably leave him," Max mumbles, taking his sister's hand and leaving Jojo and I alone.

We sit there for several minutes, until I feel his eyes on me again and he stands up. His tone is uncertain, confused. "You didn't get mugged."

I wish I had been mugged. It would have been a lot easier for me to explain then.

"And I'm sorry."

Straight to the point. Jojo doesn't like to beat around the bush, and I'm grateful for that on so many levels, I hate it when people tip-toe around these sorts of problems.

"I'm going back for a while," I mumble. My words are slurred, like my tongue won't quite move the way it should and my lips don't seem to want to move.

"Hm?"

"Back. Liverpool. Sorry about your guitar."

I move my head ever-so-slightly to see his reaction to the apology and I notice that his lips have moved, he's smiling slightly, and relief fills me. "'s okay. I'll just... work it off or something. T'get it back."

With that he's gone and I'm left with my thoughts.

_Ask Me Why_

"Jude?"

Lucy's standing next to me now, she's wearing some old pajamas and I'm sitting on the bed with my legs crossed, my eyes fixed on an indistinguishable spot on the floor. At the sound of her voice I look up and give her a small smile. My jaw aches.

"Yes?"

She tentatively moves forward, sits next to me on the bed and leans her head on my shoulder. I want to pull away, but would rather not cause any problems at the moment.

"What happened... today, I mean..."

_Tell her the truth, tell her everything..._

"Just some problems."

I don't look but I can tell by her tone of voice that she's disappointed. "... you've been talking to Sadie a lot..." Tearful. I've made her cry, and my stomach clenches again.

"Luce, I can't... I don't really think..." I want to tell her now, I should be _able_ to but whenever I mouth the word my voice ceases to work and I'm left mouthing the word 'rape' again and again. "I love you, I really do. You should know this."

She sniffles and buries her head in my shoulder, her tears soak through my shirt. One of the shirts I brought with me when I took my second trip from Liverpool to the United States.

"Max told me something," she whispers, voice thick with tears, "but I don't... you didn't _really_, did you?" I turn my head sideways, a feeling of horror slowly taking up my insides, devouring them. Did I really _what_?

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"Rape, Jude. Said you were _raped_ in that... basement thing... were you? I mean _really_..."

I don't trust myself to speak and instead nod. She pulls back, horrified or disgusted, I can't tell, but then lets her head drop back onto my shoulder. There's silence for a moment, and then it comes bursting out, making both of us jump despite the fact that I should have known it was coming.

"I want to go home."


	14. Chapter 13

_I seem to have a thing for updating when I'm going to pass out from lack of sleep. This fic is almost over, though, and sorry for not updating sooner (school's a bitch). Nothing belongs to meee.  
_

**Chapter Thirteen**

I want so badly for it to be her who answers the door, with her smile and her familiar hugs that make me grin no matter what. Chases everything away until I leave again and it all comes back to me, but it isn't her. It never _will_ be her because all it is is Auntie Carol with her red eyes, shaking hands and her fleeting kiss that she puts on my forehead.

A weak imitation of her, because being _twins_ doesn't mean you're just like them.

And my auntie isn't my mum.

And my mum isn't there.

Because my mum is _dead_ and nobody told me.

_Ask Me Why_

"Heey Jude," Max calls from the couch when I walk in the door. I still have all my things and drop them in the front room before going back to the room I share with Lucy. She's still at her job, which is better for me because the time change never got easier to adjust to and I'm dead on my feet.

Only I can't sleep. Everything and nothing is going on in my head, like a swarm of angry bees but at the same time, it's horribly empty and frightening. Because I can't even begin to understand what just happened. Why after I saw Auntie Carol at the door, after she gave me a kiss, I went right back on the boat and came back to the apartment, to Lucy and everyone else.

Because when my auntie told me the news I didn't want to spend another minute there. Everything made me think of her; the smell of the rain when it evaporated off the roads and sidewalks made me think of her and so did Auntie Carol standing there wringing her hands like my mum used to do when she would get really nervous.

Like when she brought home one of those men she met in a pub, the kind that would see me for the first time and then make up some excuse to leave, but this one went mad, it seemed like, and kept throwing things and screaming at both of us until she called the police.

Thinking about my mother gives me headaches, and I finally curl into a tight ball underneath the covers and go to sleep.

Lucy is next to me when I wake up, snoring slightly and with her arms wrapped around me. I feel cold even though she's next to me. Without waking her up I slip out of bed and walk into the living room where it seems like there was a party or something. It still smells like weed, that sweet smell that made me gag at first but... it was easy to get used to when enough people used it.

I find a joint, rolled but never used, on the table and I light it with ease. Maybe this will keep me awake, keep everything okay for the moment—

"_Jude_," her voice is quiet and she sits next to me on the couch, leaning her head tiredly against my shoulder like she used to before everything went downhill and before the concert on the roof. Before all that. "Wh," she stifles a yawn, "what're you doing up?"

Shrug. It's such a strange response if you're not a teenager but it's engraved in my brain and that's always what I give if there's not an answer in my brain already. She gives me that look; the one that says _give me a real answer_ and I look away, let the smoke out, close my eyes.

"Judey," she coos, running her hand through my hair, her thumb along my jaw and smiles sympathetically at me. "Judey Judey _Judey_..." There are tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, in her hair... she's crying but she's smiling at me and it's such a beautiful picture. I arrange the drawing in my mind, save it for later. Maybe to give to her as a present; or keep it where no one else will find it.

"Me mum's dead." It's not my voice, not my eyes that fill with tears. I'm watching everything. I _see_ Lucy move back a bit. Disgust? Fear? But she puts her arms around me again and leans in to kiss my cheek.

"I'm so sorry."

Sorry. Everything will get better soon. She wouldn't want me to live this way. I've heard it all, but she sounds sincere. I move into her touch a bit more, setting the joint down on the table and curling up on the couch.

"So _thin_," she murmurs as she presses her lips to my cheek again. I'm not crying, I'm just tearing up. That's all. Because my mum is dead and Lucy is sitting next to me with the moonlight in her hair and eyes, she's there, she's _everywhere_. "We should feed you, Jude."

I feel a smile coming on, a real one, tired and unsure, but it's real. I kiss her lightly, not wanting to get into anything incredibly heavy but still wanting her to know how much it means that she's been so patient. "I know, luv."

We sit there for a moment, her arm around me and my head on her shoulder, and then she stands up and stretches. "Bed?"

"Please."


	15. Chapter 14

_You guys... I don't know how much I need to apologize for not updating this sooner. I've been swamped with schoolwork and so now... I dunno. Now that I'm sick I kind of feel like updating. For those of you who were reading _I'd like to Go There_ I had to take it down. My apologies.  
Nothing within this story belongs to me._

**Chapter Fourteen**

I don't think I can keep the memories at bay any longer. The images tug at my brain, twist and knot until all that's left, all that will _ever_ be left are the sights, the smells, the sounds and whatever I ran my hands across in that hell.

And I feel filthy. Eleven months later, and I still scratch at my skin until it's raw, bloody in some cases depending on how hard I've scrubbed. I still wake in the middle of the night, still find myself sitting on the couch, lost in the memories of what was, what could be again if I give it the chance.

But everything's changed now. Max is gone, left with some girl he met at a bar one night. Who promised him the world... couldn't pass that offer up, could he? Without Max's laughter, his voice filling the apartment like it used to on so many occasions, I feel lost.

Lucy isn't enough of an anchor.

"Jude—"

Quiet. I throw my things into the suitcase, ignore the sobbing, ignore the urge that's filling me, that tells me to put everything back in its place. To sit down, to _talk_ to Lucy like I used to, like I should be doing.

"Luv, I can't do this, I can't—"

"It's our _child_, Jude! Our _child_..."

No it's not. Not the baby with the blue eyes, the brown hair. Too sweet. It's not my child.

"That... _thing_, Luce, isn't_ mine_," I snap, wishing I had a suitcase that didn't zip so I could slam down the lid. Loud noise. I need something loud...

"What's wrong with you?" She's screaming now, and the baby, who hasn't even been named yet because we've been so busy, is screeching in its crib. Prudence lent it to us, got it from a friend who got it from a friend so the chain stretches forever.

I scoff, hauling the bag up, don't look... you'll end up back here... "Me? I'm the normal one, Luce... you're all..." I motion vaguely, anger stopping the words from coming.

"I thought you said you were alright!" Worried voice, shining eyes, _don't look don't look..._

"I'm _not_ all-fucking-right!"

"Well _maybe_ I can help you..."

Silence. Complete silence. I walk out of the bedroom, through the living room, out the door.

"I don't need your help."

_... alright, I'm ashamed, you're ashamed, I'm sure that this is the worst ending I've written since I wrote Jay Cee Joy Sadie. Maybe my heart just isn't in it anymore...  
rest assured, you'll see something better from me sometime. Dunno when, though._


End file.
